


When He Became Will Graham

by PeterStark



Series: The Stag and the Fox [14]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Curses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, God of Death Hannibal, God of Justice Will, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, M/M, Manipulation, Mischa Lecter Lives, Murder, Murder Husbands, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, References to Norse Religion & Lore, References to Shakespeare, Slow Burn, Someone Help Will Graham, Touch-Starved Will Graham, eventually, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:06:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29541408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeterStark/pseuds/PeterStark
Summary: Will Graham knows there's darkness in him. A part of him that craves justice. He knows who deserves bloody justice...but he holds it back. He builds forts to keep himself from losing his humanity.Hannibal Lecter doesn't much care for Will's humanity. He knows Will isn't human at all and he wants his mate back...even if it means hurting him.
Relationships: Mischa Lecter/Ariel, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: The Stag and the Fox [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085435
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	1. Feels Good

**Author's Note:**

> The final one in the series! If you start here, you'll be confused.  
> Thank ya'll for joining me.  
> I own nothing.

"Everyone has thought about killing someone, one way or another, be it your own hand or the hand of God." Will knew this to be true. He could see it in people, see it in himself in the mirror. Darkness was in everyone. He hoped his work could keep some of the darkness back, could serve a greater purpose than just...being that one broken mind that understood killers. "Now think about killing Mrs. Marlow. Why did she deserve this? Tell me your design. Tell me who you are." He knew what would make himself do such a thing, not that he would. No. He wouldn't. But...he understood the killer, the whys, the sense it made to him. He looked down and shifted his unnecessary glasses. They helped. Instead of looking at people or having his eyes dart constantly, he could focus on the dust that stuck to his glasses instead. It helped...sometimes.

"Mr. Graham. Special Agent Jack Crawford. I head the Behavioral Science Unit."

Will glanced up. This man wanted something. He could tell from his posture. Will wasn't interested. "We've met."

"Yes. We had a disagreement when we opened up the museum."

"I disagreed with what you named it." Will shoved the rest of his things in his bag. He wanted an escape. He didn't want to talk too people. The less he saw of people, the better everyone would be. He built forts, walls. Not just for people on the outside, but to keep his darker parts trapped inside. 

"The, uh, Evil Minds Research Museum."

Will flinched. Still an awful name. "It's a little hammy, Jack."

"I see you've hitched your horse to a teaching post, and I also understand it's difficult for you to be social." Jack had questions in his voice.

Will didn't want to see the curiosity. Everyone treated him with curiosity. If they had their way, his brain would be in a glass jar, slowly picked apart and studied until his freak nature was understandable. "Well, I'm just talking AT them. I'm not listening to them. It's not social."

"I see..." Jack sighed, then reached up for Will's glasses. "May I?"

Will didn't know why the man bothered to ask. Jack took the glasses and started to clean them. Will ground his teeth together. His shield, taken without any care. One of his boundaries, one of his built up walls, knocked over without a care. Jack's eyes were down, focused on cleaning the smudges. But Will's eyes met Jack's. This was a man who was single-minded. He didn't care what it took. He'd reach his goals by any means necessary. Will blinked, he hated it, hated how easy it was to drop into someone's mind. He was grateful when the glasses were returned, further up his nose.

"Where do you fall on the spectrum?"

Will wanted to punch him. He kept that part locked safely away. But he made a mental note of the nerve Jack had. "My horse is hitched to a post that is closer to Asperger's and autistics than narcissists and sociopaths."

"But you can EMPATHIZE with narcissists and sociopaths."

Everyone always went there first. They went there, then jumped head first into believing Will was fundamentally broken. "I can empathize with ANYBODY, not just killers. It's less to do with a personality disorder than an active imagination."

"Can I borrow your imagination?"

Will lifted his eyes and met Jack's. Something bad had happened. He could tell. Lives were on the line. But...the last time Will worked in the field... He'd empathized with the wrong person. By all accounts, he should have fired his gun at the man who'd held his own brother hostage. He should have...but he'd looked at them, seen them. Understood. He'd sided with the wrong people. Sided with darkness. Would he step into that darkness again if he helped Jack? Or...would he have the chance to bring true justice?

"What happened?"

-

Will was running late. Though, to be honest, he didn't want to be there. He'd rather be home with his dogs. They were far simpler than people and far kinder too. They didn't want to pick apart his brain or use him...and better still, they weren't afraid of him. He didn't know why he was doing this, he knew it was bad for him, seeing into the world's darkest minds. But those girls, children really, he wanted justice for them. He pulled open the door. "Sorry, I'm late. Lecture ran a bit long." It didn't. He'd wanted to wash his face in cold water before coming. He hadn't slept well, he felt the need to wake up.

"It's alright." Jack said, gesturing to a chair.

Will strode to it and his eyes flashed to the side. There was a man in the room. Something about him was...familiar. But Will couldn't put his finger on it. "Who is this?"

"Will, this is Doctor Hannibal Lecter, Dr. Bloom told us he'd be a good fit for a profiler. Dr. Lecter, this is Special Agent Will Graham. I mentioned him."

The man, Doctor Lecter, turned and a smile tugged at his lips, but then faded from view. He was used to schooling his reactions, then. "Lovely to meet you, Will."

Will took a single peek at his eyes, curious. The dark depths...revealed nothing, as if the man had a fog over his mind. But the rest of him spoke. Crisp, tailored clothes. He had expensive taste and could afford it. He wasn't from America, let alone the area. He was very steady, very controlled. Not just a doctor of psychology then. Perhaps a medical doctor as well? Confident. Will had seen lots of psychologists and doctors. Most of them were boring. There was something about that haze in his mind though that was... No, Will didn't care.

"Likewise." Will turned and opened the file, seeing if he could find anything.

"Tell me then, how many confessions?" Hannibal asked, turning away from Will to study the faces of victims on the wall.

"Twelve dozen, the last time I checked. None of them had any details until this morning. And then they all had details. Some genius in Duluth PD took a photograph of Elise Nichols' body with his cell phone, shared it with his friends, and then Freddy Lounds posted it on Tattlecrime dot com." Jack huffed.

"Tasteless." Will glowered at the table. 

"Do you have trouble with taste?" Hannibal asked.

Will wasn't sure what he should admit to. "My thoughts are often not tasty."

"Nor mine. No effective barriers."

"I build forts." Will kept his tasteless thoughts behind them and tried to keep the thoughts of monsters outside of them. He felt the doctor sit down next to him.

"Associations come quickly."

"So do forts." Will said. They had to. He'd learned early on that he needed them.

"Not fond of eye contact, are you?" Hannibal wondered, leaning a little closer.

What was with the questions? Will reluctantly turned to him, made eye contact again. "Eyes are distracting you see too much, you don't see enough. And-And it's hard to focus when you're thinking, um, 'Oh, those whites are REALLY white,' or "He must have hepatitis,' or 'Oh, is that a burst vein?'" Those weren't even half the thoughts he had, but this doctor didn't need to know that. "So, yeah, I try to avoid eyes whenever possible. Jack?" Will handed over his file to the agent. Jack took it.

"I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values, morality, and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams."

Will turned, his eyes met the doctor's again. What the hell? How could this man see that much?

"No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love." He finished.

This man was trying to pull him apart, see how he ticked. "Whose profile are you working on?" This was Jack's doing, surely. He turned on the man. "Whose profile is he working on?!"

"I'm sorry, Will. Observing is what we do. I can't shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off."

"Please, don't psychoanalyze me. You won't like me when I'm psychoanalyzed."

"Will..."

Will wasn't having this. He got up. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go give a lecture on psychoanalyzing." He stormed out of the room, not caring if he was being petulant. What the hell were they thinking? He didn't...he didn't want people under his skin like that. Already if felt like Doctor Lecter was trying to crawl into his skull.

He didn't like him.

-

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"Well, I don't have a full schedule these days... What is going on?"

"I'm not sure you can understand. You never really do. I just...I find it nice to speak about this things. It really is therapeutic, even if no one could truly grasp what I think and feel."

"Do you feel that you are other? Something different from the rest?"

"Most certainly. I'm not sure you'd believe me if I explained it."

"I believe that you believe you're other."

"Hah. That was some lazy psychology there...but I'm sure I would have said the same, were our positions reversed."

"Your person suit is worn thin today. You almost seem troubled. Tell me, what's wrong?"

"Have you ever known the feeling...of looking at some you love more than you love anything...and they don't know you?"

"Can't say I have."

"Then you could never know how much agony I am in. There is no word for it."

"Tell me, what will you do? You tend to have an...adverse reaction to such strong emotions."

"Food has become quite the comfort to me in recent years. I've always had a fondness for a well composed meal...but I find it is my crutch these days. My way to ease pain... My particular proclivity has morphed over the years."

"Would you say...your proclivity has become an addiction?"

"In some ways. I don't need it, but I crave it. It helps me with expression."

"Do you have trouble with expression?"

"I've never been good at dealing with negative emotions. I sometimes feel I'm being watched. I don't want to give the satisfaction. But...it comes out in my cravings, in my nightmares, in my loneliness."

"You're lonely?"

"Always. Even in company, it's like I'm alone."

"Perhaps you need companionship. Everyone needs someone, even someone like you...who's 'other'."

"My heart belongs to my soulmate."

"You believe in soulmates?"

"You couldn't understand. But...it is almost as the story says. That Zeus split soulmates apart, fearing their power."

"You reference Greek mythology quite a lot. I wonder what draws you to it?"

"Haha. Well, let's just say I find the stories interesting."

"Do you know who your soulmate is?"

"I shall...but he will not know me."

"Because you are 'other'?"

"You say it, but you do not know how different I truly am."

"Given your proclivities, I must assume you ARE very different from most humans. Most wouldn't even consider you human if they knew you."

"Perhaps I'm not human."

"That must be a burden, to feel that way."

"Everything is a burden these days. Even love and joy are burdens. They are becoming tasteless."

"That must be painful. To lose so much."

"It's excruciating. But I will suffer my cursed life."

"For what?"

"The agony of my soulmate... Shall we have some wine? The hour is up."

"I would love some."

-

Will's breath shook, blood was pouring out from under his hands. She was dying. He was...he wasn't able to save her. A child. She didn't deserve this. It wasn't just, it wasn't right.

"See?"

He blinked and looked up, his eyes meeting Hobbs'.

"See?"

Will could see. Could see it. Could feel it. He'd never killed anyone before. But this feeling rising up from behind his walls, from behind his forts. It felt good. It felt powerful. He felt just. He felt untouchable. He could understand why killers killed. Hobbs must have felt like a god.

Shame bubbled up. This was wrong, it was so wrong.

"Will." A steady voice called. "Move your hands."

Will turned and looked at Hannibal. He looked calm, controlled. There was something...dark in his eyes too, but he looked steady, sure. Will lifted his bloody hands. Hannibal took over immediately, holding the bleeding child.

"Breathe, Will." Hannibal said. "Leave if you must. Breathe."

Will nodded and slowly sat back, collapsing. This was all too much. Part of him wanted to reach out, to touch the doctor's shoulder. Some part of him felt like if he touched him, he'd find some sense of balance. But he didn't. Instead, he closed his eyes, hoping it would all go away.


	2. Antlers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated whether or not Will would get sick...then I decided it would be more fun if he did.  
> Mentions of suicide in this chapter, just so you know.  
> I still own nothing.  
> Ya'll are awesome. I do read all the comments, just can't respond to all. My life is crazy busy. There will be some...announcements about that at a later date though.

Will opened his eyes. He was surrounded by trees. Moonlight spilled through the trees. There was a sound, a whimper. It almost sounded human, but it also had an animalistic edge. Will ran through the trees, trying to find the source of the noise. He couldn't let an animal suffer.

A noise from behind him made him stop. He turned and saw a stag behind him. It wasn't a normal stag. It was...more like a raven stag. It's hooves and antlers were stark white. Except...there was blood on those white antlers.

The sound of pain came again and it wasn't from the stag. The stag had caused the pain, likely. Will was worried. Scared he'd find an innocent animal impaled by antlers.

Will turned his back on the stag and continued forward. He could hear the stag following him. He kept going and paused. At first, he thought there was a massive wolf...but it wasn't a wolf. It was a fox. A nine-tailed fox. It was pure white, glowing like the moon. It was backed against a wall of rock. Blood on it's head. Something was stabbing up...almost like something was being shoved through the fox's skull. The poor thing was suffering.

"Hey, you're going to be okay." Will assured him, walking forward. "Let me see if I can..."

The ends of the white tails were turning black. The fur of his paws were going dark. The fox whimpered and cringed. The stag walked around Will and pressed his nose to the fox's. The foxes blue eyes closed, then he whimpered, collapsing. Grey antlers began to grow through his head, blood spilling over his white fur. Will didn't know what to do. He reached out to try to help.

The stag made a horrible noise. Angry.

Next thing Will knew, there was pain in his gut. He looked down and saw antlers. Blood was pouring from his gut, the stag had impaled him.

The fox rose and Will felt it's teeth around his throat.

-

Will woke up, covered in sweat. He breathed heavily and shook. Why did that feel so...disturbing? He got up and grabbed a towel. He didn't want to ruin his bed with sweat. His dogs looked up at him, wide, upset eyes, they were whimpering. "I'm okay, guys." He soothed them. Winston hopped onto the bed and curled up next to him. "Thanks, buddy." Will closed his eyes and tried to slow his breaths.

The dogs made another round of sounds. Uneasy ones. Winston, though, barked in aggression. 

Will opened his eyes. "What is it?" Will turned and at his window, for a moment, he thought he saw the shadow of a man. Stark white antlers stood from his head. He sat up and within a blink, it was gone. "Just a nightmare." Will fell back and closed his eyes. Winston and the others just knew how stressed he was. "Sorry, guys. Let's get some sleep." He rubbed Winston's head and closed his eyes, falling asleep.

-

Hannibal shifted back to his human form. He walked back up to the window and sighed. Will was so beautiful, but obviously very shaken. "Sorry, love. But you really are beautiful when you're shaken." What he'd have to do to his lover would be horrific. But this needed to end. He wanted their forever to begin. He'd pull Masayi back. They'd be them again, nothing in the way. "This will hurt us both...but it will be worth it." He wanted to walk into his home and press a kiss to his head. Wanted to hold the upset man. But he couldn't. Not yet.

-

Will was pretty sure he was meant to be talking during this. As of this moment, however, he'd walked in, sat down in a chair, stared at the armrests of the chair across from him, and by extension, the hands on those arm rests, then he'd gotten uncomfortable and climbed the ladder without asking. Since then, he'd perused the books. Twenty minutes had passed.

Hannibal hadn't prompted him.

Will found himself both...relaxed and unnerved. Perhaps his earlier assessment had been wrong. Maybe Hannibal WAS interesting. At first, the man had just seemed too blank. Too easy to read. Skilled. Confident. Pompous. Wealthy... It was all...superficial though. The man's true nature, his thoughts his emotions...they weren't there. His eyes were vacant. Will didn't know if he loved it or hated it. It was nice, in a way, it got rid of all the noise that assaulted will every day. His mirror neurons were always picking up everything, seeing everything, reflecting, becoming, twisting. 

It was why he preferred to live alone with the company of dogs. Why he didn't like being around people. Too much input all the time.

Hannibal gave him absolutely no input. It was pleasant, calming. Also unnerving. Will'd never met anyone he couldn't read. He wondered how high Hannibal's walls must be built. Perhaps it was just an example of how good a therapist he was, considering how little he gave away of himself.

Will glanced down to see the doctor in question shuffling papers on his desk. "What's that?"

"Your psychological evaluation. You are totally functional and more or less sane. Well done." The doctor gave him a strange half-smile. This too was unreadable. At least in Will's normal way.

Will felt normal around Hannibal. A normal person relying on normal social ques, rather than seeing all the millions of little things hidden behind them. It was so much quieter. Scarier too. "Did you just rubber stamp me?" He asked in disbelief. He hadn't said anything to this doctor. Hadn't addressed him. Just stormed away once he'd gotten anxious...and the man was giving him a rubber stamp?

"Yes. Jack Crawford may lay his weary head to rest knowing he didn't break you and our conversation can proceed unobstructed by paperwork."

Will took that in for a moment. The doctor was removing the weight of their words. Will could almost see what he was doing. "Jack thinks that I need therapy." Will had known by high school therapy wouldn't help him. No one had answers for what was broken in him. So he built his own forts, his own walls, and did his best to avoid people, avoid too much stimulus, avoid adding more minds into his own.

"What you need is a way out of dark places when Jack sends you there." At least the doctor agreed Will didn't need therapy.

"Last time he sent me into a dark place, I brought something back."

"A surrogate daughter?"

Will raised an eyebrow at him.

"You saved Abigail Hobbs' life. You also orphaned her. That comes with certain emotional obligations, regardless of empathy disorders."

That was...astute. Will did feel some obligation to her. It seemed...just, fair to want to help her...after he'd orphaned her. Though, admittedly, her father hadn't been the best caretaker. "You were there. You saved her life too. Do YOU feel obligated?"

"Yes. I feel a staggering amount of obligation." Those words seemed real, honest. Will couldn't tell. The quiet was nice, but not knowing the truth was a bit annoying. "I feel responsibility. I've fantasized about scenarios where my actions may have allowed a different fate for Abigail Hobbs."

What fate did Hannibal mean? Did the doctor think there could have been a peaceful resolution? "Jack thinks Abigail Hobbs helped her dad kill those girls."

"How does that make you feel?"

Will snorted. Cheap psychology. "How does it make YOU feel?"

"I find it vulgar." Again, blunt answer. Therapists weren't normally like this with Will. When Will asked his previous therapists questions they'd all tried to avert them...not that Will hadn't gotten the answers he wanted by simply looking at them.

"Me too." Will responded with honest.

"And entirely possible."

Will let out a breath. "It's not what happened." He said it to defend her. He'd looked at Abigail. She had a survival instinct to her. There was nothing wrong with her trying to survive. It would be unjust to punish her for just trying to survive her father. He couldn't let on what she'd done.

Hannibal tilted his head to the side, still unreadable. "Jack will ask her when she wakes up, or he'll have one of us ask her."

"Is this therapy or a support group?" Will asked. 

"It's whatever you need it to be. And Will, the mirrors in your mind can reflect the best of yourself, not the worst of someone else." Hannibal assured him.

"I'm not...certain of that." Everyone else seemed to pour out with ease...like the antlers that grew from the poor fox. His mind got invaded and grew what other's planted within him.

"Would you like to come down and talk for the rest of our session, or are you more comfortable up there?" Hannibal asked, returning to his armchair. His posture at ease.

Will...didn't really want to get closer. Instead he sat on the edge and put his feet on one of the ladder rungs. Hannibal didn't seem offended.

"We have no work hanging over our heads, this is your time, Will. What would you like to talk about?"

Will leaned against the wood. "I never know what to say."

"I have no set dialogue, Will. You don't need to choose your words here. Honesty is the best, but only what you are comfortable with."

"Honesty is not something I can give."

Hannibal sighed. "Why?" 

"I had a friend, when I was young. He was nice...accepting. I think us... know each other on sight."

"'Us'?"

"Well, I did tell you I had no problems." Will snorted. "He had depression. It was hard to be around him, because I could feel it. But at least then we weren't alone."

"What happened to this friend?"

"He found his mom's pain meds...thought the whole bottle would make the pain stop. He wasn't old enough to know it'd hurt him. He didn't want to die...he just knew the pain meds helped his mom feel better."

Hannibal nodded. "What happened with your friend?"

"They locked him up. Strapped him down to a bed. Wouldn't let him do anything. Force fed him when he wasn't hungry. They said they were trying to help, trying to fix him. Trying to solve his problems. They made him worse. They made him feel powerless, they made him feel crazy. I could tell...because I could feel it when I visited him." Will looked at his feet. "I looked him up...later. I couldn't visit him after that one time. It was...being in that place..." All the voices, the helplessness, the pain. It had rattled him. "Anyway...he killed himself...at fifteen. I wasn't there, but I knew. He was fighting before, they took him there and told him he was broken, told him he was crazy, told him he wouldn't make it, told him he had problems...and he believed it. They caged him like an animal and he felt like one."

"A trapped animal will chew off their own legs to escape a trap." Hannibal acknowledged.

"Yes...it will. I was a kid and I asked the doctor what he did wrong, why they locked him up. My friend didn't do anything wrong...the doctor told me he was trying to 'fix him'...help him. The doctor was solving my friend's problems in his mind."

"So you don't have problems."

"That image is in my head. A boy with problems, tied down, trapped like a caged animal...forced into treatment that wouldn't help him. Power stolen from him, told he was small broken, incapable." Will shook his head. People with problems didn't always get the treatment they needed. The last thing he needed was to be locked up, tied down. Pills and food forced down his throat. "Honesty is hard for me."

"Because you really do have problems."

"Manageable ones." Will glared at Hannibal.

"I believe you." Hannibal said. "We're having conversations, Will. I'm not your therapist, as far as I'm concerned. I don't believe you belong behind bars, Will. I don't believe you deserve to be strapped down or forced anything. I don't believe that you are a danger to yourself or anyone else. I believe that you have an amazing mind, one that comes with a price. I imagine you've found a way to cope with it... living alone? Isolation? Something to help with the external stimuli. Perhaps your glasses. You don't have a prescription on those, do you?"

Will looked up through his glasses at Hannibal and shook his head. "They're just plastic."

"You've learned to manage the less pleasant side-effects." Hannibal nodded. "But what Jack is putting you through, it's sending you to dark places. I would like to offer this place to you, so that you have a safe place to get rid of the darkness that gathers. You need a place to come up for air, Will."

Will looked at Hannibal. "But I DON'T have problems."

Hannibal smiled. "No, Will. It's safe here. You're safe here."

He wasn't sure if he could believe it, but he nodded. "Most psychologists want to pick apart my mind. I'm afraid once they do they won't let me go."

"That's why we're friends, having conversations. Not patient and psychologist."

"Friends?" Will asked.

Hannibal's lips quirked up, just a little. "Perhaps, one day."

Something about Hannibal felt so very safe...but very dangerous too. "Okay."

"Well, you survived our first conversation, Will." Hannibal said, looking down at his watch. "You think we could do this again?"

Will found himself nodding.

"Come on down, Will."

Will slowly came down the ladder and walked toward the door. "Um...thanks. Sorry about just...walking off."

"If you need space, I'll gladly let you roam the books upstairs. I can understand the need to be away from constant stimulation. No doubt your mind is always firing, always giving you something new to see and feel."

Will nodded. It was exhausting. But...he felt lighter, being near Hannibal. Like his mind could slow down. It would slow down further when he could get home, be with his dogs and rest. "Thank you."

Hannibal nodded. He reached for the door with one hand and nearly put his other hand to the small of Will's back.

Will dodged the touch. "Sorry." He knew it was likely just a friendly, guiding touch, one to help ease him to the door. Just a friendly gesture. But Will couldn't stand it. He never had. When people touched him it felt...wrong. Almost like a violation. He warmed up to some people. When he'd had friends, rare as it was growing up, he could stand brushes from them. He'd tried to get close with a girl once when he was a teen, the second she'd touched his hand he'd felt violated. It had been hard for him to back out of that situation. Even now, he tried to avoid people touching him.

"Stimulation of that nature also is bothersome to you?"

Will didn't want to admit it. Didn't want to show another fractured part of himself. "Uh, yeah."

"Okay. Thank you for telling me. Now I can make sure I don't accidently cause you discomfort." He lowered his hand and nodded. "Rest, Will. I think it will help."

Will nodded, then walked out of the room.

-

Hannibal sighed and sat in his own chair.

"You've been very quiet today."

Hannibal nodded. "A lot on my mind."

"I've never known you to have so much on your mind that you cannot process it or vocalize it. You are very good at processing. This must be something heavy."

"Yes. I...have a new patient. I don't know how to help him. He's deeply wounded and I want more than anything to help him."

"That's a very genuine statement. Who is this new patient?"

"Will Graham. And...how I wish I could help him. There's something...off about him this time. Something wrong."

"'This time?'"

Hannibal's head snapped up. "I'm sorry. I misspoke. It... Let me try again. He's...wounded. His mind is extraordinary, talented, gifted...but chained. It's like the chains are poisoning him, holding him down, keeping him sick and half of himself...less than half. He's fractured. He wouldn't even allow a simple touch to guide him out of a room. A polite touch..." Hannibal frowned, his eyes watered at the thought of Will's pain. "I worry about him...and I don't know how to help him."

"What about him worries you?"

"He has...how do I describe it in a way you could understand? It is like his mind is full of mirror neurons."

"'Like' mirror neurons or does he still have them?"

"Whether he does or not isn't the point. He is...pure empathy. He could look at a person and become that person. Because of that he deals with so much fear and pain and isolation. He is so very wounded. He could be...strong and powerful. He could take his knowledge and become something great...but instead he is afraid of people...afraid of himself. He's appalled when he looks in the mirror. He thinks himself only a vessel of other's darkness. I wish I could show him otherwise. That he isn't a slave to other's...that he could be so much more."

"You seem very stressed about this man's wellbeing."

"I am. I suspect I always will be."

"Are you still dealing with your loneliness?"

Hannibal smiled gently. "No. I don't feel so alone anymore."

"Does this Will Graham make you feel less alone?"

"Yes...because he is...'other' like me."

"Is that why you want to help him so badly? So that he doesn't experience what you do?"

"Yes." Hannibal nodded. "I never wish him to know my pain...my loneliness... Yet, I fear he does. I must do what I can to remedy that." A tear escaped his eye, he quickly wiped it away. "Sorry."

"You're allowed to cry."

"I don't often...but I fear I shall, quite a bit in the future."

"Well, that seat is always open if you need a place to let out these emotions."

Hannibal nodded and reached for a tissue. "Thank you. This pain...you could never understand the depth of it."

"Try to explain it to me then."

Hannibal took a deep breath. "Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take care.


	3. Of Gods and Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole series idea came from all these discussions Hannibal had about god in the series so...here we go.

Will was sitting down, actually sitting down. He didn't want to think about what that meant, psychologically speaking. But he knew he felt...safer, calmer around Hannibal. It had to be the man himself, because Will knew for damn sure it wasn't the fact that he was a psychiatrist. Psychiatrists were dangerous as a general rule, in Will's opinion. 

Feeling safer around him didn't make anything easier, though. 

"When we last spoke, you said you saw Hobbs, in the place of one of the buried victims. When you shot Eldon Stammets, who was it that you saw?" Hannibal asked after a moment of silence. 

"I didn't see Hobbs." Will stated, truthfully. He'd seen Stammets. He'd shot Stammets. He'd missed all the vital organs...but he'd shot Stammets.

"Then it's not Hobbs' ghost that's haunting you, is it?" Hannibal inquired. "It's the inevitability of there being a man so bad that killing him felt good."

How did Hannibal know that? How did he know that...that hurting bad people felt...GOOD? Just. "Killing Hobbs felt...JUST."

"You have a very strong sense of justice. Which is why you're here to prove that sprig of zest you feel is from saving Abigail, not from killing her dad. You wouldn't want to feel unjust in yourself. Right?"

"I didn't feel a sprig of ZEST when I shot Eldon Stammets." He'd felt...shortchanged. Why? What the fuck was wrong with him?

"You didn't kill Eldon Stammets."

Will looked at the floor. "I thought about it. I'm still not entirely sure that wasn't my intention pulling the trigger." It would have been just to kill him. It would not have been morally right, but just? Yes.

"If your intention was to kill him, it's because you understand why he did the things he did. It's beautiful in its own way giving voice to the unmentionable."

He huffed. "I should've stuck to fixing boat motors in Louisiana." He rubbed his forehead. It would have been simpler. And yet...boat motors didn't require his skills, didn't feel like his purpose. It didn't feel RIGHT.

"A boat engine is a machine, a predictable problem-easy to solve. You fail, there's a paddle." Hannibal leaned forward. "Where was your paddle with Hobbs?"

"I thought you're supposed to be my paddle." He didn't mean to sound desperate...but he felt desperate. He couldn't keep fighting this. The fight in his head. He needed stronger walls, taller walls. He needed to keep the morality and justice in balance. Perhaps he DID need a paddle. The engine was broken and wasn't within Will's power to fix.

"I am." Hannibal promised. "It wasn't the act of killing Hobbs that got you down, was it?" He wondered, raising an eyebrow. "Did you really feel so bad because killing him felt so good?"

Moment of truth. Will knew a paddle could only help if pointed in the right direction. Hannibal needed to know the darkness inside of him if he was going to help. "I LIKED killing Hobbs." He whispered, his voice shaking.

"Killing must feel good to god too. He does it all the time and are we not created in his image?" Hannibal asked.

Will scoffed. "That depends who you ask."

A weird, soft smile filled Hannibal's face. "God's terrific. He dropped a church roof on thirty-four of his worshippers last Wednesday night in Texas, while they sang a hymn."

That didn't sound just to Will, but then again, he didn't know those worshippers. "And did God feel good about that?" It was...oddly easy to make eye contact with Hannibal. There was nothing there to see, nothing there to invade Will's mind.

"He felt powerful." Hannibal admitted. "You scoffed at the idea of god. Are you not religious?"

"I am...indifferent to the notion of it all."

"Indifferent? Do you think a god or gods exist?"

"I do, but I don't worship. It feels...false. I feel no tie to them, so why lie to them? If I'm going to go to hell, I'm going to do it honestly, not try to buy my way into heaven with false praises."

Hannibal chuckled, quietly.

"What's funny about that?"

"It just is." Hannibal sighed. "I too believe that gods exists, just as I believe in people. I'm not really a worshipper either, though."

"Trying to go to hell honestly, like me?" Will snorted.

"I doubt I'll have a place there, or in any heaven for that matter." Hannibal said. "I'm particularly fond of the stories religion gives us."

"Moral stories?"

"Upon inspections of various mythos, I've determined that the morality of man is not the same as the morality of gods. They...live by a different set of rules entirely, it seems. They made man simple creatures who see good and evil. Yet, gods view the universe in many more shades than good and evil."

"Good and evil come in shades for us mortals as well."

"So then was killing Hobbs good or evil, Will, or somewhere else on the line?"

Will leaned back in his chair. "It was morally evil. But it aligns with justice."

"So justice can be both good and evil. Are you more just or more moral, I wonder?" Hannibal asked.

"I do too." Will admitted. His head fell forward, into his hands. "I'm tired."

"Are you sleeping well?"

Will shrugged. "As good as I ever do. Been having weird dreams though. Sort of...nightmares, but not quite. They're weird."

"Would you like to discuss them?"

Will rolled his eyes and snorted. "What is this? Dream interpretation?"

"Sleep is very important. For most people it takes up a third of their lives. Sleep is important for both physical and mental health. And, yes, there is something to be said about dream interpretation." Hannibal smiled, there was nearly a hint of laughter in his eyes. "The unconscious mind can tell us a lot."

"I keep getting impaled by antlers...the same way Cassie was. Same antlers, same spread."

"The copycat's work, not Hobbs'?" Hannibal asked.

"I suppose I'm not worried about Hobbs. He's dead. Plus, I didn't fit his profile. This Copycat...he's something else. He knew exactly what to show me so I could find Hobbs. It's like he's already in my head, before I even knew him. He wanted me to find Hobbs, so he showed me the way. He's...interesting and frightening in equal turns, because he knows me, somehow."

"What happens, before you're impaled? I imagine that being impaled wakes you, so what leads up to it?" Hannibal asked.

Will frowned. "Usually, I'm at my house. Safe and familiar. Then I hear an animal or a human crying."

"Is it an animal or a human?" Hannibal asked.

"Neither. It's...a fox but...it's huge. And it glows."

"What kind of fox?" Hannibal asked with an intrigued look on his face, leaning back in his chair.

"It has nine tails. It's not normal. It's bigger than any dog. It's...unreal. It isn't human, but it isn't an animal either."

"Like the mythical kitsune?"

"A what?" Will asked.

"The word literally means fox in Japanese. But it can refer to more. The fox, especially the nine-tailed one, has a place of significance in Japanese lore, and religion." Hannibal nodded.

Will's eyes crinkled. He didn't know that. Had he...once known it and forgotten? A fact from his childhood or schooling? Something he'd used for a case?

"The most famous of which is Masayi. A god, or a kami. The god was said to take the form of a beautiful nine-tailed fox. Cunning, clever, and all-knowing...much of the lore on foxes is based around him. He was a god of justice and understanding, known for his deep attachment to nature. He was shown as merciful to those in need and brutal to those who did wrong. A protector. A guardian. He was a symbol of justice."

"Was?" Will asked, more intrigued about the lore on foxes then he was his own dream now. Lore was certainly easier to discuss than his nightmares.

"Masayi was cursed to die eternal death. Punished for all time."

"Why?"

Hannibal shrugged. "The story says he fell into a deep a beautiful love. So his mother, who could not know love, was jealous. She cursed him, forced him to suffer for all eternity, forever separated from the one he loves."

"Harsh." Will let out a breath.

"So this, kitsune. It is crying for help in your dreams?"

Will glowered at Hannibal. He hadn't wanted to go back to the topic. "Yes. I run through the woods. I know something's following me. I can feel it, but I want to help the fox. When I get there, something is trying to stab through it's skull. I reach out to help it, blood is flowing from it's head...then it growls at me. The stag...that followed me. It touches the fox as if...as if they know each other. The fox sprouts antlers...then the stag impales me...just like Cassie. And I don't die right away. The fox tears open my throat. Then I wake up. It's...variations on that dream. Usually the fox isn't there. Usually it's the stag or a wendigo...something with antlers. I always end up impaled...but I never die right away. Got to suffer it, I guess...cause Cassie suffered it."

Hannibal pressed his lips together in thought and nodded. "Interesting. If we assume that the stag is the Copycat or Hobbs, who do you think the fox is? Who are you trying to protect?"

"Obviously not well enough..." The fox got tainted every time-- Abigail. Will thought. He was trying to protect Abigail from her father. From the Copycat. From all of it. He knew she was a fighter a survivor. Was he imagining her cunning and crafty like a fox? A survivor who would do anything it took? Maybe. "I think the stag is the Copycat. When I dream of Hobbs he's dead or him... I suppose I'd need a placeholder of some kind for the Copycat, since I can't see his real face."

"Sound analysis." Hannibal nodded. "Who in your dream do you empathize most with? The stag or the fox?"

Will felt painted into a corner. One was a serial killer, the other was a pained creature who seemed to be shifting into a killer, a fighter willing to impart judgment. But the truth was...well, the truth. "The fox."

"Why?"

"Because there is something painful growing out of the recesses of its skull...drawing blood...causing...agony."

Hannibal leaned forward, his hands clasped in his lap. "Will, you have control over what 'grows' out of your skull. You do not have to reflect others, you can reflect yourself."

What if Will couldn't? What if he built his high walls for that very reason? What if he layered on morality like a coat to keep the darkness...to keep the antlers from growing and impaling others? "How do I know which parts are me at this point, Doctor Lecter? There's so much in my head all the time...almost all the time."

"When do you find peace, Will?"

"When I'm alone...even then, they follow me. When I'm here I feel a peace too, in a way."

"Why here, Will?" Hannibal asked.

"Because, I can't see you, Doctor Lecter. You may as well be a mason, you build forts in your head too. Forts and walls I can't see through. No one else has done that before."

Hannibal straightened and nodded. "That is because this isn't about me, Will. I want you to feel free to be as you are around me. I noticed, from the beginning, how you mimic those around you unconsciously. How your mind mirrors... I wanted to shut the lights off so you needn't worry about reflecting around me. Only being you."

Will snorted and leaned back in his chair. "I'm a mirror. Jack uses me as such and often. You'd turn the lights out so I can't capture an image."

"Does it help?" Hannibal asked.

Will paused. "It does. Thank you."

Hannibal smiled. "You're welcome. I shall keep the lights dimmed for you, as it were, so that you can find yourself in the mirror, not others."

Will nodded. Hannibal really was far more interesting then he imagined. "How do you know so much about Japanese lore and mythology?"

"Oh, I have a relative who is Japanese...well, half-Japanese. Takes more after his father, though-very Norse."

"Norse? That's a strange description." 

"He's a bit...old-fashioned in a way." Hannibal chortled.

"You really are interested in mythos, aren't you?" Will asked.

"I am. I'm most well-versed in the Greek mythos. Though many religions and myths have drawn my attention. The stories are interesting." Hannibal shrugged.

"Greek? Mm. Interesting." Will said, rubbing his eyes. He pulled his glasses from where he'd hung them on his shirt and put them on his face. "I've not learned much about them. I suppose the usual stuff, the Iliad and the Odyssey. Some vague pieces of artwork."

"Ah, that seems to be most people's knowledge base. I won't bore you with the subject." Hannibal stood.

Will looked up at him in question.

"You've put your glasses on, Will. I assume you are tired."

He was assuming correctly. Will didn't like opening up to people. There was something lovely about being seen, rather than being a mirror, but Will couldn't do this for very long. It tired him. "I...yes."

"Then we can end our conversation for the day. You should rest, hopefully, understanding your dreams will help you find peace. Perhaps they'll go away."

"Ironically, the dreams where I die at the end are more pleasant than my usual nightmares." Will huffed and stood up.

"Hmm." Hannibal nodded. "I wish you rest, Will. Perhaps Jack won't call you in for a while."

"I find killers rarely sleep... I suspect I sleep as much as they do." Will snorted. Another thing he had in common with them...other than knowing their thoughts and emotions. This work really wasn't good for him. "Thank you, Doctor Lecter."

"Of course." Hannibal led him to the door and pulled it open, this time, not reaching to guide Will by the small of his back. "If you are interested in Greek mythology, the tale of Hades and Persephone makes for a good bedtime story."

"Maybe...if I can't sleep." Will shrugged. He waved to Hannibal and walked out.

-

Will woke in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat. "Fuck." He huffed and rolled onto his side. This was the second time he'd woken. At least the towels protected the bed. Winston put his head on the edge of the bed and whined quietly. "I'm okay." He promised his newest member of his pack. The others had learned a long time ago that Will had near constant nightmares. Winston would adjust soon enough. "Thanks, Winston." He rubbed his ears gently and sat up.

Will wanted something, anything to distract him from the nightmare he'd had. In his dream...he actually HAD killed Stammets. The nightmare part of it was how good it had felt. He let out a breath and grabbed his phone. He unlocked it, and found himself on the internet...with nothing to do.

So he looked up Hades and Persephone.

There seemed to be two sides of the story. Had the goddess of spring been kidnapped or had she willingly gone with the god of the underworld? Will read the story, and it was strange, had he heard it before? Probably, somewhere in school. Sleep still wouldn't come, so Will kept scrolling. Apparently, Hades and Persephone had had two children. The eldest, Hanni, a god of death and judgement. The youngest, Mischa, goddess of nature and death. Hanni. Will snorted. That god's name was the presumed origin of the name Hannibal. No wonder why Doctor Lecter knew a thing or two. He opened a page on Hanni and read.

He was described as being a beast, black as night, with sharp claws, teeth and...antlers. The god of death was said to devour souls as he searched for his missing lover. "'No matter how long he searches, nor how much he kills, he is cursed to never have his lover.' That's sad. Gods are fucked up." Will sighed. Glad he wasn't particularly fond of any of them. They seemed to be petty creatures. But their stories were interesting and complex. "Bet family reunions are hell for them." He laughed. It wasn't something he could truly empathize with. He'd never been to a family reunion. That required family.

Will closed his eyes. At least his mind wasn't on killing Stammets.

Sleep came for him.

-

Hannibal stood outside the window. He wanted nothing more than open the door. He knew if he could just touch Will, it would be so much better. Everything would be better. Instead, he would wait. Wait for Will to come to him. The man had been through a lot in this life, obviously. Will didn't like people touching him, Hannibal wondered if...someone had... He shook his head. He couldn't think about that or he'd lose his calm. He'd tear apart the world, send many people to hell, send them to Thanatos.

Hannibal knew Thanatos wouldn't mind the extra death, especially if it had purpose, like hunting down anyone who might have hurt Will. Thanatos was like a brother to him. Gods of death stuck together for the most part, and Death himself didn't often reveal himself, except to fellow gods of death. But, Hannibal wouldn't start killing too crazily. He didn't want to draw too much attention yet. And going on a killing spree would definitely get Will's attention. 

Freeing Masayi for eternity from this curse, was more important than any temporary pain.

That was going to be the hardest part...inflicting pain on his dear Will. His logic told him it was temporary, that this would save Will in the long run... His heart rebelled, screamed at the very idea. Every piece of him wanted to help and heal, but helping and healing wouldn't help this, not right now.

Hannibal touched the window gently. "I love you... I'm sorry, dear Will."

It was strange though, Will having dreams about himself...Masayi and Hanni. There was something off about that. No version of Masayi had had any insights like that before. That was...strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take Care.

**Author's Note:**

> Take care.


End file.
